Page 50 of Claimed By a King

“Nah. My goal for the rest of the night is to make Cara come as many times as possible.”

“What the fuck.” I gape at him, because he doesn’t usually tell me that stuff. He chuckles.

“What? Just because my dick isn’t working right now doesn’t mean I can’t make her scream with my tongue.”

I chuckle. “Dude. TMI. You’re like my dad.”

“Like fuck.” He smirks, but then it drops as his words are nearly a whisper. “I gotta do something. What if I can’t get it up ever again and she leaves me?”

Fuck it’s hard to see Rocco like this. Never have I seen him so fucking unsure of himself and as much as I feel for him, it pisses me off. He’s better than this.

Leaning over, I cage him in his chair. “Now you listen here. That woman loves you. You banished her and yet she’s still fucking here. If you think for one minute that your dick is the reason she is around, then you are fucking mistaken.” I shift, gripping his chin as I breach his personal space, continuing to keep my voice low so only he can hear. “She loves you. The decent man you are. Not your body. Get that shit out of your head right fucking now.”

He tries to nod, but I’m gripping his chin too tight. “See. I told you, you’ve got this.”

A laugh bubbles up escaping my lips, and I shove back from him as he smirks. Everyone around us is busy talking, all except for Cara.

Rocco can’t see her a few feet behind him, but I see her and the tears she bats away, and she gives me a nod of thanks.

She heard everything.

We are about to leave to head back to the clubhouse for the small celebration the Cruz Cunts were arranging when a member of staff opens the door to the dining room and ushers a man in I recognize.

It takes me a moment to place him, and when I realize he’s the doctor that helped me get Rocco from the truck and took over CPR for me, my brows shoot up.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry for intruding, but I knew this is where Mr. King had been taken, and I have some information he needs.”

“Information I need, or the President of the Cruz Kings needs?” Rocco barks, wheeling up to my side.

The doctor looks confused for a moment, but then his eyes land on my patch. “For the President. Is that you now?”

“Yes. What information?” I bark this time, and he steps closer.

“The other motorcycle club, the Reapers, is it?”

Frowning I nod. “Yes. What about them?”

“There are some living in the house next door to my mom. Three or four of them. She lives in Watsonville.”

My heart stops beating momentarily before it bursts to life in anticipation.

“Watsonville? Since when?” I snap and he pales a little, but doesn’t back down.

“A couple of months. They come and go, but she started complaining about the noise from the new neighbors, and I thought they just had their music too loud, but when she told me earlier today that the noise was motorcycles, I drove over there to see for myself.” He looks between all of us, certain with what he’s saying. “They have the Reapers’ logo thing on their vests.”

“It’s called a cut,” Stretch snaps, but the doctor shrugs. What the fuck does he care what it’s called.

My eyes find Slasher’s as this information settles in. This is the first lead we’ve gotten of their whereabouts. Three or four Reapers isn’t their club, but it’s a start, and if they aren’t the ones who have Zoe, then we’ll fucking make sure they tell us who does.

Zoe

Ihiss in pain as Gunner, none too gently, applies antibacterial to the fresh bite mark on my shoulder. It stings like a motherfucker, which only serves as a reminder that I’m still alive and living my days as his fuck doll.

He takes a step back, admiring the scars and indents he’s littered all over my flesh. “Such a pretty sight,” he groans. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll carve my name into your skin one day.”

A wave of disgust slams into me when I notice his cock thickening again. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

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